


Magic Markers

by SpaghettiAndTheMoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Fluff, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Express, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-11
Updated: 2008-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaghettiAndTheMoon/pseuds/SpaghettiAndTheMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Well, Potter, you do have a surprisingly nice arse.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Markers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Smoochfest in 2008.

Harry was nervous. Yes, he was very nervous, and he was brave enough to admit it… at least to himself. Which is why he sat in the baggage compartment. He had been looking for Ron and Hermione, and every person he passed had looked at him. He was used to this, of course, but not these _kinds_ of looks. He was certain the look that boy had given him rivaled the looks he used to give Cho back in fourth and fifth year.

So he lay on someone’s trunk, his legs stretched out and his hands underneath his head. It was the classic pose of leisure, a thought that struck Harry with a bit of irony. He lay that way for a very long time, listening to the sounds of the train and trying to relax. He was finally starting to do just that when someone stumbled into the compartment. Harry sat bolt upright just in time to see the person drop the robes they were carrying. His eyes immediately shot to the faded Mark on the left forearm. He hadn’t seen the face yet, but it had to be…

“It’s just a Dark Mark, Potter. What’s the matter, never seen one up close before?”

Harry was speechless. He had known that Malfoy had worked for Voldemort, but he had… he had actually…

“He actually gave you the Mark?”

“No, Potter, I coloured this on myself with magic markers.”

Harry tried not to stutter as he replied, “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, well, you don’t know a lot of things about me.”

Harry nodded, thinking that that was probably true.

“Wait a minute. Why are you in here, Malfoy? You do realise that this is the baggage compartment, don’t you?”

“Yes, Potter, your astonishing observation has not gone unnoticed. And if you must know, I am in here because, in addition to being an Eighth Year, I also have to walk around with this on my arm, broadcasting to those that didn’t already know that I am a former Death Eater. I may or may not be used to being shunned by now, but that does not mean that I have to put up with it.”

Harry stared at the blond, taking in his post-war appearance. He still had the same pointy features, but he somehow looked older. He no longer slicked his hair back- instead it hung loose, framing his face. He had grown; it seemed, an inch or two- which made him look even thinner. Harry was surprised that he wasn’t the only one getting looked up and down everywhere he went.

“Merlin, Potter, if you’re going to look at me like that at least buy me dinner first.”

Harry blushed. It wasn’t completely untrue that he… appreciated Malfoy’s appearance. Though only Ron and Hermione knew about Harry’s post-war preferences, he thought that Draco might be able to guess.

“Anyway, what are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be gallivanting about the train flaunting your Saviour of the Wizarding World status?”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, Malfoy, but I’m actually not a pompous prick. I’ve been stared at, and cat called, and someone actually had the audacity to grab my arse. That is why I’m here. Believe it or not, I would rather be invisible.”

The blond walked in a circle around Harry in a way that made his palms itch for all the wrong reasons. He could feel Malfoy’s heat radiating off of him- all the trunks didn’t leave much room to walk. He felt Malfoy’s gaze on him, and it felt like the kind of gazes he’d been getting a lot of lately. But, coming from Malfoy, the look had a different reaction.

“Well, Potter, you do have a surprisingly nice arse.”

Harry froze. So it _was_ one of those looks. But this was Malfoy. He had to be playing some sort of game.

“What are you playing at, Malfoy?”

“Oh, I’m not playing at anything. But it’s no secret that I prefer blokes, if that’s what you mean.”

And then Harry’s back was against a trunk and Malfoy’s lips were against his. Malfoy’s hands formed cages around Harry’s wrists, preventing his escape. The blond’s body was pressed hard against his, and his lips were anything but gentle. Merlin, it felt bloody brilliant.

So why did Harry turn into unresponsive stone?

Malfoy pulled away and bit Harry’s neck, hard; Harry knew it would leave a mark.

“Kiss me, dammit!”

But Harry just stood there, completely bewildered. He might like blokes, but he had never been kissed by one. Hell, he hadn’t been kissed at all since the war and his fallout with Ginny.

“Fine. I should have known that the bloody Chosen One would be too good for a former Death Eater.”

And with that, Malfoy was gone. The absence of his body against Harry’s caused Harry to teeter with the rolling train.

_What the fuck?_

XXXXX

It was settled, then. Harry would find Draco and apologise. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was apologising for, or why… but it seemed like that was what he had to do to get what he wanted. And what he wanted was, well… he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, either, but he was fairly certain that it would look something like the scene in the baggage car… only a little more two-sided, and preferably with less clothes.

Harry wasn’t sure why he wanted this, either, though he thought it might have to do with all of the staring. Malfoy provided an escape of sorts… and, well, he was bloody gorgeous. But it was _Malfoy_. It seemed that Harry could have almost anyone that he wanted. He was a boy with options, and yet he still came back to Malfoy. Because, somehow, it made sense.

Harry’s fingers found the bruise that Malfoy had marred his neck with only a few days prior, as they so often did when he was thinking about the blond. Harry knew that he would have to do something pretty drastic to get Malfoy to forgive him… he just didn’t know what grand gesture he could come up with. He’d considered flowers and chocolates, and even potions and hexes. But he knew that none of those options would work. Not on Malfoy. It had to be something really special. Harry cringed at the word, at the fact that he was even willing to do something for Malfoy at all. Yes, he had saved him from the Fiendfyre… but he would have saved anyone from that. He didn’t wish death on Malfoy, so there wasn’t really a choice. But this was different. He had a choice. He had a choice, and he had made it.

XXXXX

The best idea Harry ever had was bringing the Cloak back with him. He had brought the Marauder’s Map with him, too, but its magic had gotten iffy since the castle had changed so much after the war. It still worked, of course, but only in certain areas of the castle that had gone unharmed.

Harry pulled the Cloak on now, shoving the Map into his pocket. Said Map showed a certain blond alone by the Black Lake, and Harry was determined to catch him there. He rushed out of him room, tripping over his trunk as he went. He wished he had some Felix Felicis- he needed as much luck as he could get.

The September night air was cool and slightly calming on Harry’s nerves. He still had no idea how he was going to pull this off, but he did have hope. And that was something he had learned to live off of. Leaves crunched under his feet, but no one was around to hear the noise. Someone had started a ridiculous rumor that the war left a dangerous magic field around the lake, so it was essentially deserted. As Harry got closer, he could see Draco’s hair reflecting in the moonlight. Merlin, he was gorgeous. Harry almost wished that it was always night time so he could always see Malfoy’s complexion shining like that. But then again, he knew that when daylight came, Malfoy would be just as beautiful.

Harry approached Malfoy and sat down next to him, leaning against the same rock as the blond, their shoulders just a few inches apart.

“Take off your bloody cloak, Potter, I know you’re there.”

Harry blinked, almost startled that Malfoy knew he was there. But then he remembered why he was there, and he realised that nothing in this situation had made sense yet- so there was no reason for it to start. Harry slid the Cloak off, eager to please Malfoy in any way that he could. He let the Cloak puddle at his feet, its liquid Mercury colour still leaving him amazed after all these years.

“Are you going to say something, or are you just going to sit there and stare at your trainers like a bloody First Year?”

“Draco…”

Both boys paused at the use of Malfoy’s first name.

“I don’t know why I-“

“Potter, wait. Let me assist you in your explanation, though I’m sure it would be a good one. You are the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World,’ the bloody ‘Chosen One.’ For practically all of my life, I have been raised to oppose you. I was to obey my father, and later the Dark Lord himself, no questions asked.”

Harry stared into Draco’s eyes, trying to show the boy that he could handle anything he would say. And that was just it. Harry was 18 now, and he knew Draco was, too. But they were still boys. They may have been through a war, but when they were together, they were still schoolboys.

“I always get what I want, Potter. Always. The first time I was denied that was when I held my hand out to you back in First Year.”

Draco paused and rolled up the sleeve of his button down to reveal his Mark.

“I didn’t want this. I wanted to please my father. This was the result.”

He fell silent, and Harry assumed it was his turn to speak. He was wrong, of course.

“Chin up, Potter, don’t look so sorry for me. It’s unbecoming.”

So that’s how it would be. A little truth followed by a lot of snark.

“Malfoy… we’re a lot alike, you and I.”

The blond raised an eyebrow at this, and seemed to be holding back laughter.

“We were both raised with huge expectations hanging over us. We both had our fathers’ reputations and our houses’ reputations hanging over us.”

Malfoy nodded at this, though almost imperceptibly- as if he was afraid of what would happen if he agreed with Harry.

“And after the scene in the baggage car, I’d say we have another thing in common.”

Harry blushed as he said this and saw the smirk creep onto Draco’s lips as he realised he had been right.

“But, um. We have one other thing in common…?”

This came out like a question, which irked Harry. He had rehearsed this stupid scene over and over in his room like this was the biggest audition of his life- and in a way, it was.

Harry folded up the sleeves of his button down carefully, first the right and then the left. He looked up at Draco carefully, and saw that his eyes were wide and bright.

“Potter… what have you done?”

“Kiss me, dammit.”

It was barely a whisper, nothing like Draco’s explosion of the same words on the train. But Harry felt Draco’s warm lips against his, and he knew his plan had worked.

Draco’s legs were around Harry’s hips, and the blond’s weight pressed Harry’s back into the rock he was leaning against. Harry let his hands trail down Draco’s back, scratching through his shirt as he went. Draco moaned into the kiss at this, and Harry let his hands drop lower to cup Draco’s arse cheeks. It was Harry’s turn to moan now, because, Merlin, this was heaven.

Harry raised his hand up to tangle it in Draco’s hair, something he’d dreamt about, but a cool hand stopped him, holding him in place and breaking the kiss.

“Draco, can we _please_ talk about this later?”

Harry’s words came out in a breathy burst, and he knew his expression was a mirror image of Draco’s: hungry. His erection was straining through his pants, and if he could just inch forward a little bit, he knew he would be able to feel Draco…

“No, Potter. Harry…”

Draco’s breathing was heavy and ragged, his eyes glazed over, and his lips were red, swollen, and just begging to be kissed. Harry knew that he was concentrating on not giving in to Harry.

“It’s not real.”

Draco laughed at this, a sound that Harry vowed to hear more often, as he let his head fall to rest on Harry’s shoulder; his breath tickling Harry’s neck as he spoke.

“I know it’s not real, you Gryffindor half wit.”

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself.

“I drew it on myself with magic markers.”

Draco stared at Harry then, and Harry wished he could imprint the image on his brain forever.

“You are a bloody idiot.”

He said this with a smile that began to spread to Harry’s face, too, but Draco’s lips seized his again, and he felt Draco’s long fingers making quick work of his buttons. Draco rocked his hips forward, pressing his erection against Harry’s, drawing moans from both of the boys.

“Harry…”

Draco rocked his hips against Harry’s again, and Harry borrowed the Slytherin’s signature smirk as he thought,

_So there will be less clothes, then._

~XXXXX~


End file.
